On The Run Saviors of Life!
by KasperAura
Summary: The birth of paramedics in America is an important event in medical history. It showed that we should be doing more to save lives, rather than rescuing people who wouldn't survive. As Henry gets the opportunity to see these men work up close in Los Angeles County during their introduction in 1972, he'll learn a very important lesson from the experience.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to either Forever (who belong to Warner Bros and Matt Miller), or the rights to Emergency! (who belong to Universal and Mark VII). Taking these two and crossing them over though? I think I can make that work.**

* * *

 **1972**

Another night had fallen, and another walk home he made. Sighing to himself, the lone doctor walked along the sidewalk, the distant sound of Lower Manhattan carried on the wind. Shivering, he pulled his jacket collar tighter around his neck. Late fall was definitely around the corner.

Somewhere, off a couple blocks, the sounds of sirens came roaring.

The doctor looked up from his tired gaze at the familiar and well-treaded sidewalk, looking over his shoulder in mild curiosity. As he did so, the fire engine came into view, followed closely by a smaller sound quickly got closer and louder until they finally passed his stationary position on the sidewalk, rushing past him to save lives. A few seconds after, the wind the trucks whipped up came into play, rustling and scattering the nearby leaves and trash.

Henry had decided long ago that the sound meant a rushing sense of urgency. Who knew what firefighters actually felt, though, as they rushed to the scene of what could be something small, or something big. Nervousness, fear, or a trill up their spine and adrenaline surging through their veins. It was a feeling that just sort of _happened._

Looking on at the trucks, they took a turn down the next block over. Funny enough, he had noticed another pair of trucks, a engine and a ladder truck, go down the same route, meeting up with the way he walked home from the Hospital when he didn't feel like taking a taxi.

Softly humming to himself in thought, he decided he'd see what was causing the commotion. Moving again, keeping up his walking pace from before, he made it to the block where the tr ucks had made their turn. Turning the street corner, he quickly noticed, about two blocks down, a gathering of bystanders was beginning to form, where some of the trucks had parked in front of a building. Looking up, he couldn't see visible flames, but he could see smoke, and where there was smoke, there was fire...most of the time.

Internally, he sighed. For him, it had been a long day of treating patients at the Hospital. The moon was already rising, even though his shift ended at six at night. He felt he didn't have time to stop and watch in awe at the unfolding scene, as he'd seen many fires before. Despite that, Henry couldn't help but to be drawn closer to the scene. Maybe it was the gathering of people, or the fluttering of the lights on the now generous presence of emergency vehicles. Out of sheer curiosity, instead of walking the other way, he began down the block. He kept up a fast pace until he got close enough to begin mingling with the crowd that had formed about a block away.

Since he was closer, he could see now why so many people were gathered. For one, it was a three floor apartment building, which wasn't a rarity in New York City by any means. However, and yet again, no flames were visible, but smoke was drifting out of the windows on the third floor. If the fire department was here, that meant there was fire.

Moving further into the crowd, Henry finally made it as close as he could without being stopped by police or even the various fire captains or chiefs around. He observed the scene blocked off by police, and the flutter of movement inside it. Firefighters moved into the building, some carrying hoses, others carrying various pieces of equipment. Some stayed back to help, while others directed those that moved into the building. He had swore to himself that he wouldn't get engrossed, but like the other people around him, fire, as an untamed beast, was something to marvel at.

Amidst the sound of people shuffling, gasping, or just trying to get past the crowd to keep walking on, oblivious to the activity, one lady was standing on the sidelines, in the crowd, and seemed more in shock than awe of all the others. At one point, she took a step back, rubbing at her eyes. Noticing this, Henry looked over at her, at a glance, noticing the light smoke that covered her face. She rubbed at her eyes again, and this time, he realized, she was silently crying. Maybe she was afraid to cry in public? Did she have someone she cared about in the building? Too many questions, and she was paying the price for it.

Suddenly, she put both hands over her mouth, letting out a gasp. Henry quickly turned back around to notice two firefighters-most likely rescue men-running out the doorway to the apartment building, carrying the body of a man, who, Henry could see, was not unconscious. The lights of the fire trucks caught the man's eyes, so he quickly deducted he was alive.

The lady, who had been silently crying in the crowd, now burst forward in a sudden motion, trying to force her way through the mass of people, shouting her husband's name in desperation. She got as far as the front, where one of the fire captains stopped her, pushing her back as gently as he could. She was yelling for him, hot tears streaming down her face, but she was unable to do anything.

Worrying that something might happen, Henry gradually stepped forward into the crowd, shuffling his way through. He was able to make it to the front, where he saw even more of the scene than before. Rubble had already fallen down onto the streets below. Over by the rescue squad, the two rescue men were treating the poor woman's husband, who was clearly in pain. They gave him reassurances, slipped an oxygen mask over him, and let him lay on a yellow blanket to make him more comfortable.

Henry sighed, this time externally. Deciding that it was enough excitement for one night, he began to make the turn to walk away from the horrible scene. However, he took one more look at the man. He was sitting up instead of how he was before, with a pained looked on his face. One of the firefighters gently told him to lay back down, but the man shook his head. The rescue man then took another yellow blanket, and wrapped it around the patient, who then laid back down, a hand over his chest. The street lights shined off his exposed skin, showing heavy moisture.

Henry took a step forward. Did he risk it? He saw the rescue men tending to other people. He _wanted_ to help, that was his instinct. However, before he made a decision, one of the rescue personnel, seeing that the man was in discomfort, moved over to assist him. He briefly checked him over, telling the man what seemed like reassurances. The man let loose a faint smile, closing his eyes and laying back down.

So he _was_ okay. Letting out a deep breath he hadn't known he had been holding, Henry turned around, gripping his bag tighter, and began to walk away. As he made it to the ends of the crowd, he mentally went over the list of the symptoms he had noticed.

 _Cold sweat..._

Well, that wasn't unusual for a man who almost got charred to death.

 _Shortness of breath..._

Nervousness? Perhaps...

 _Chest pains..._

"Oh, no..."

The last thing he wanted to do was sprint. That would draw attention to everyone around him. Turning quickly around, he began a fast stride, almost a sprint. He broke into the crowd, trying not to push people. He made it to the front of the crowd faster this time, but one of the firefighters, specifically one of the rescue men, blocked him off from entering further.

"I'm sorry, sir," He began, a little tired, "I can't let you go any further." He tried pushing the doctor back, but he wasn't having any of it. "Sir-"

Finally catching his breath, and not caring about people looking at him, he shouted, "That man," He pointed to the husband laying down, with a hand on his chest, gripping tighter than before, "Is having a heart attack!"

The words didn't seem to resonate with the firefighter for a split second, until he realized what the man had said, or rather, shouted at him. However, he didn't trust the reality of what he was saying.

"How can you be so sure?" He shot back, unsure of how true his words were.

Standing up straighter, Henry placed a hand over his chest. "I am a doctor. I know the symptoms." He stared the firefighter in his eyes.

Before both of them could react, the rescue man's partner began suddenly calling him over. Turning around, shocked, he saw the man go rigid, then blank out. Before he could run over to see what the _hell_ was going on, the doctor beat him to it. Before he could protest, he stopped by the patient, getting down on his knees. He roughly grabbed him by the shoulder.

"What are you doing!?" The firefighter yelled close to his ear, not bothering to mask his anger and confusion. Henry rounded on him.

"This man is having a heart attack." He began, a low growl in his voice, "Someone needs to do something."

Before whipping back around, the firefighter stopped him again. "I can't..." He trailed off, finally meeting the doctor's eyes. He had seen it before in the men he had trained. The sort of fixed, determined gaze, with a dash of anger. When that gaze showed, mountains couldn't move the boys. Lowering his head, is slowly let go of Henry's shoulder, letting him do what he felt was right.

Now free to _save_ the poor man, Henry immediately began checking his injuries. Seeing no rigidity in the stomach, he deducted all the injuries were burns and...whatever was causing him to have a heart attack. Leaning down, he placed his hands over the man's heart, and began CPR. Just like in the Hospital, the adrenaline kicked in, and it kicked hard.

"Hey-" One of the firefighters began, reaching over to grab Henry by the shoulder. As soon as he reached over, he himself felt a hand on his shoulder. He flipped around to see his Captain staring him dead in the eyes.

"Let him. He's doing CPR." His Captain responded gruffly. "He's obviously a doctor, which is something we need." Looking past his rescue man's shoulder, he saw the ambulance he had requested dispatch to send out pulling up. He cast his look back to his man. "Let him come with you."

Stepping back, the Captain resumed his role, running around to where the ambulance had backed up. With a wave of his hand and a subsequent "Over here!" he directed them to where they needed to go. All eyes were on the patient, and nothing else seemed to matter.

The patient was loaded in the ambulance, the driver and his partner were ready to go, and lastly the rescue man hopped into the back of the truck. Everything was ready to go. Finally breaking his trance, Henry cast his gaze up, seeing that it was time to stop CPR and let the firefighters do their job. He stopped his rhythm, drawing his hands away. As the rescue men and the ambulance attendees quickly handled the patient, Henry rose to his feet, not quite ready to back down. Grabbing his medical bag, he straightened, ready to argue his way into riding in with the patient.

However, mildly to his surprise, no one seemed compelled to stop him from riding in with the patient. In fact, they seemed to encourage it. As one of the rescue men hopped in the ambulance with the patient, he looked the doctor directly in the eyes, asking, "Are you coming?"

That was all that needed to be said. He rushed into the back of the ambulance. He heard the doors of the trunk close behind him, and with two pats on the door from the Captain, they were on their way.

Henry quickly took charge of the situation, explaining how giving oxygen was to coincide with him doing CPR, to feign normal breathing in a human. The rescue man-who preferred to be called Gibson-knew all of what Henry told him, however he said he couldn't use on the field, as rescue men weren't authorized to, which just didn't seem right.

The silence fell in the ambulance once again, the only audible sounds being the sirens and the oxygen tank.

They quickly arrived at the Hospital in what seemed like record time. It was not the one Henry worked at but nevertheless, he was staying right where he was, focusing solely on the victim, for he held his life in his hands.

The back doors opened, and the flurry of activity began. Growing tired but refusing to give up, he continued CPR, now standing on the bottom rails of the gurney the man was lying on to get a better posture. The group was quickly wheeled off to a room, most likely already set up with the necessary equipment. However, as they were about to enter, a young doctor came up beside Henry, and lightly nudged him out of the way, resuming CPR. Henry stumbled back a bit, just short of the examination room. To his right was Gibson, who had also relinquished his position to another doctor.

No, that wouldn't do. He began to take a step forward, but, acting quickly, Gibson held him back.

"Look, this time they've got him." He tried to reassure the doctor. Sure, he couldn't do the amazing things he had seen doctors do tonight, but he could at least stop someone. From the room, the pair could hear the sound of the defibrillator going off.

However, Henry refused. He needed to see, in first person, whether or not this man was going to live. He continued to silently insist, trying to get, at the very least, a short glimpse of the man.

"I understand if you want to see him, but really, they've got it." Gibson continued, although by this point, he knew his reassurances were falling on deaf ears.

Finally, after continuing for a minute, Henry managed to find an opening, breaking through past the firefighter. He pushed the door open, stumbling inside.

No one was working on him. They had stopped bagging him with air. They had stopped CPR. The paddles to the defibrillator were dropped.

The monitor showed a flatline. It was over. And the silence was surprisingly deafening.

One of the doctors, a more older one, raised up his head to stare at the clock on the wall. "Time of death...18:56." His loud, monotone voice violently shattered the silence.

Henry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, arms dropping to the side in defeat and exhaustion. Shortly after, he dropped his head. He could think of anything to say to the people or himself to reassure them. Because he knew. He knew, deep down, why the man had died. It took all of his power to keep control of his emotions, not to outburst there and say it wasn't over, because he knew it was over.

 _Death...can be a surprise to some people._

One of the young, female nurses gently brushed the sweat-ladened hair out of the now deceased man's face. He was so young...most likely in his thirties...

 _And that's what doctors are for: to fight death. If it needs fixing, he heals it. If it is on the cusp of death, he brings it back to life. The power doctors hold is incredible. But sometimes, even having almost 200 years of experience isn't enough. Sometimes, no matter how hard we fight, the odds against us are stacked too high._ _You may think it won't affect doctors, who see it almost every day...however, the rule that you should never get involved with a patient is always broken when you lose them. And losing them is the hardest part of being a doctor_.

"On-The-Run Saviors of Life!"

Written by KasperAura (aka ProjectSSSS)

Beta read by cytoplasmridiculum and Ozias

Written for "The Once and Future Henry Morgan" ficathon as a Forever x Emergency! Crossover.

* * *

Doctor Clifford Kasec gave a large yawn, stretching. He _hated_ the early shifts!

He heard heavy footsteps behind him, and, turning around, he saw Henry walking towards him, seemingly deep in thought. Cliff could read him like a book.

"Rough night?" He inquired, placing his hands in his pockets.

Henry nodded. "Rough night." He simply said, beginning to walk past Cliff.

Sighing, Cliff put a friendly arm around Henry's shoulder, patting him twice.

"I think someone needs to have a cup of coffee with me." Cliff suggested, spacing out the first few words.

Henry looked over to his coworker, raising one eyebrow. "I've already had my morning coffee..." He spoke. Cliff raised his right hand, his pointer finger extended to try and silence him. Pulling him, he forced Henry to begin walking to the lounge.

"That's... _really_ neat, Hank." Cliff began, calling Henry by his nickname he used when in friendly conversation, "But, I'm telling you, I think coffee will be great for you." He looked over at Henry, putting on the gaze far too known by the doctors in the ER. It was a gaze that could soothe and win over almost anyone. After a few seconds of the look, Henry conceded, letting out a sigh. He stepped away from Cliff's arm on his shoulder, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

With that small victory under his belt, Cliff smiled to himself, suppressing a chuckle. He opened the door to the lounge, and, far more dramatically than he should have, swung his right arm towards the door, gesturing Henry in.

As the two entered the empty lounge, Cliff went over to the bar, grabbing two mugs. He heard the squeak of the chair as Henry sat down, settling down. He took the coffee pot, pouring a generous amount of the liquid caffeine into each cup. Placing the coffee pot back on the holder, he picked up both mugs, walking over to the table. He pushed out the chair with his leg, setting both mugs down. He reached over, placing the mug in front of Henry. Getting comfortable, Cliff raised the mug to his mouth, savouring the bitterness. He peaked over his mug in silence, noticing that Henry was doing the same, albeit a bit reluctantly. Internally, Cliff sighed in relief.

Setting his mug back down on the table, Cliff took his time looking up at Henry. "Okay. Now, what happened?" He threw the question his way, shattering the ice in the process.

Henry let his gaze look down at the coffee mug. He set his arms on the table, crossing them.

"I let a man die last night."

Cliff stopped mid-sip of his coffee, swallowing. He brought it slightly away from his mouth, opening it a little bit in mild shock. "You were fine when you left the Hospital..." He replied, setting his coffee back down.

Henry slowly shook his head. "Yes, I was fine when I left yesterday. However, on my normal walking route home, I happened upon an apartment fire." He paused, thinking of what to say. Cliff respectfully gave him the time. He knew his coworkers. "It's funny how we live in the city and fires happen every day, and yet you can still be drawn to them." They both shared a chuckle at this.

Henry quickly dropped his laugh, his expression going with it. "At one point, I observed as two firefighters rushed a man out of the building. At first, he appeared to be fine, but his condition quickly deteriorated." He leaned forward, shaking his head. "Something happened, and he slipped into cardiac arrest. I forced my way through, beginning compressions as soon as I could, but I had a thought in the back of my mind that it would not work." Henry leaned back, resting his head on the chair, closing his eyes. "And it didn't."

Cliff remained silent, but cast his gaze over to his coworker. Finally, he spoke, with a hint of somberness in his tone, "And you're blaming yourself for it?" He spoke in a low voice.

Henry let out a sigh, opening back up his eyes, though he now looked at the ceiling and not his coworker. "I am." He brought his head back now, and leaned forward again, shaking his head. "I saw the symptoms, I should know this."

Cliff now shook his head. "No one in the world knows everything, especially about medicine."

"But I should!" Henry disagreed, raising his voice just enough to match his anger. He pointed to his chest with four fingers. "I should have noticed, it's the easiest thing to know." Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down, leaning back in his chair. "I feel like I violated the victim."

Cliff simply raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" He gently asked.

"I knew, in the back of my head, that he would not make it." Henry responded. "And yet I pushed on. Nothing gives me the right to beat on a man's chest when he already has one foot in the grave."

That comment left both in silence, with both feeling different emotions. No, Cliff definitely sympathized with Henry, for he understood, but one person never got to him before. Perhaps it was because more could have been done? Maybe...

"Hank..." Cliff began. Henry looked him directly in the eyes. "Sadly, until we find a way to have doctors on the field 24/7, I'm afraid there's not a lot we can do about this. However, no good comes from blaming yourself. If you tried your hardest, as you said, then that's all you need to know."

" _Paging Doctor Kasec, Doctor Kasec to Exam Room 4."_

Both doctors looked towards the door. Cliff placed his hands on table, using it to balance himself as he pushed the chair back with his hips, standing up straighter. He brushed the front of his white jacket, cleaning off the dust. The tables were never well cleaned. Stepping around the other side, he placed a comforting hand on Henry's shoulder, who had his back turned to him in the same position as before.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Cliff suggested in a gentle voice. Removing his hand, he began his stride towards the door, gripping the knob a little harder than necessary. He pushed open the door, and quickly exited it, heading for the exam room.

Once Cliff had left, Henry couldn't help but smile. For some reason, Cliff always had just the thing to say. In this case, though, it wasn't because he had been funny, it was because he felt the need to smile. Looking down, Henry noticed the two now long forgotten coffee mugs on the table.

Shaking his head, he lightly gave his famous half smile as he picked up both mugs. He walked over to the sink by the coffee pot, setting both in there on top of the small stack of mugs that would most likely grow as the day went on.

Turning around, he too went into his stride, opening the door and heading for the front of the ER, towards the waiting room. He had a bit of a clearer mind now, and was ready to start the day.

"Oh, Doctor Morgan!" He heard a female voice speak.

Looking over to his right, he noticed that Nurse Bowman, at the nurses station, was on the phone, or rather, was holding the receiver, her hand covering the speaker. "Sorry to disturb you, doctor, but I have a man here asking for you. He says he's calling from Los Angeles?"

Henry hummed in thought. Walking towards the desk, she held out the reciever for him, and he took it from her, placing it to his ear.

"Hello? This is Doctor Morgan..."

" _Henry? 'That you?"_

Henry didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was because sound was distorted when talking on a telephone. "Yes...who is this?" He asked, slightly confused with squinted eyes.

" _Hey, don't do that to me! Its Mark! Doctor Mark Rosario!"_

"Ah..." Henry breathed out in realization, finally connected the dots. Doctor Rosario was a man beyond his time. He worked at a busy Hospital in Los Angeles, in the ER. Just like Henry, he was quite in tune with medicine and studying people. He didn't have a gift of instant diagnosis, but he could sure bring a man back to life, even if he had to try his damndest. However, it was strange for him to be calling. They hadn't seen each other in a couple of years, after a rather unpleasant car accident in New York.

" _Hah, you finally recognized me. Your memory must be going."_

Henry shook his head. "No, it's the same as always."

He heard laughing on the other side, which trailed off into a breath, followed by speaking. _"Listen, are you free at all the following week?"_

Henry thought for a minute. "I'll have to see."

" _Okay. I was asking because there's a Doctor's Convention being held in Carson, and I wanted to invite you."_ A pause. _"We'll be talking about the new program of taking rescue firefighters and training them in medicine, beyond first aid."_

Now it was Henry's turn to pause. How uncanny, as he was just talking about this not a few minutes ago! "Is that so?"

" _Yeah, really! The first class got trained, and the second one just finished up. They've already started assigning these people to fire stations. They call them 'paramedics.' You interested?"_

Henry nodded to himself. "I think I am interested."

* * *

 **Carson, Los Angeles County, California**

Los Angeles. It had been some time since he was here. The last time he was anywhere near Los Angeles was in 1962, when he traveled up to Seattle for the World's Fair. He had taken a detour, stopping in Los Angeles before heading back to New York City. Overall, Los Angeles was a pretty town, but in its current age, it seems that it was in a bit of disarray.

Since the room where the convention was being held was connected to the hotel (which was subsequently connected to the airport) it was rather easy to find his way around. Opening the doors to where he was directed by the personnel, he made his way into a large room, which seemed to be about the size of a ballroom. Henry spotted a varying range of people, both young and old, doctors and nurses, new and veterans. He walked forward a bit, but not before he felt a hand settle on his shoulder. Turning around, he met Doctor Roasrio's eyes, the blue of them sparkling in good humor.

"My God, aren't you fancy?" He commented, laughing to himself as he looked Henry up and down. He placed a hand on his chin in mock deep thought.

Henry couldn't help but laugh along. "I always wear suits, though." He spoke back, still keeping his seriousness about him.

Mark, wanting to lighten the mood, commented, "What, you hoping to maybe snag one of the nurses?" He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow seductively. "Eh...?"

Henry put up his hands defensively. "Mark, you know I'm married." He spoke semi seriously, but that quickly turned into a half smirk, to which Mark responded with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, but you still 'gotta show me how that charm of yours works." Mark joked, waving his hand to brush off the seriousness of the conversation. He shook his head after the two shared semi useless friendly banter. Finally, Mark became semi seriousness. "Anyways, I figured that you'd be interested in the program more than anything else, so I want to introduce you to someone." Mark placed a hand on Henry's shoulder, leading him further into the crowd.

There definitely _were_ a lot of people, though less than Henry had expected. Passing young and old, male and female, they finally made their way to two younger male doctors talking to each other. The older doctor was a bit taller than the younger, his hair combed neatly back. He was wearing a dark grey suit, much like Henry had on, and a navy tie to match it with a nice undershirt. Funny enough, he wasn't wearing matching pants, but more expressive, plaid pants, though the coloring of them still matched the rest of the outfit.

Doctor Rosario took his hand off Henry's shoulder, waving at the two. "Hey Doc, here's who I want you to meet!"

The two turned to look at who was calling. The younger doctor said his goodbyes to the older doctor, and the older doctor returned the goodbye. Turning away from him, the younger doctor walked further into the crowd, towards where food was laid out on a table.

The older doctor walked up to the two, in silence for a few seconds. To Henry, it almost felt as if he was sizing him up.

"Henry," Mark began, holding his hand out and gesturing to the older doctor, "I'd like you to meet Doctor Kelly Brackett, head of the ER department at Rampart General Hospital."

Doctor Brackett nodded to Henry, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Henry." He returned the introduction with a deeper voice than Henry was expecting.

Henry took his hand, and they both gave a firm handshake. "I'm Doctor Henry Morgan. I work the ER out of New York City."

"New York City?" Brackett crossed his arms. "That's a long way from home. How'd you end up here?"

Henry gestured to Mark. "Doctor Rosario and I met two years ago after he got into a car accident in New York City. I just happened to be walking by at the same time it happened." Henry moved his hand to point at himself. "The car nearly hit me."

Mark waved that off. "You were far away." He looked over to Henry, giving a friendly smile.

"Still, that's an exciting way to meet." Brackett nodded. The three fell into silence, the sounds of people chattering around them coming back into the conversation.

Mark voluntarily broke the rather awkward silence. "Anyways, I'm 'gonna go walk around and talk to people." He patted Henry twice on the shoulder, causing the two to lock eyes. "I'm really glad you could make it."

Henry returned with a friendly smile. "I'm glad I could too."

With that, Doctor Rosario went on his way, trying to mingle into the crowd, which left Henry and Brackett alone to talk. They both watched him leave, until Brackett broke the ice.

"So, Mark tells me you have a gift of instant diagnosis." He started, as Henry turned around to meet his gaze. "I'll be honest, he made it sound like you'd be older."

Henry chuckled at that. Ah, if he hadn't heard _that_ one before! "It's partially true." He shrugged. "No one can really have a gift of instant diagnosis. I simply know the symptoms I see and can connect them."

Brackett crossed his arms once again. "That's still impressive. I'm able to only do that with simple things." He shook his head, uncrossing his arms. The two fell into silence once again, each person thinking of something else to say.

Henry, of course, knew what he wanted to say, but was waiting patiently for Brackett to continue. When he didn't, and he noticed that he seemed to want to leave, Henry dove in. "So, I've heard from Doctor Rosario once about this 'paramedic program,' and was curious if you knew anything about it?" He questioned.

Brackett looked at him, with sudden interest. "I know all about it. I helped train the second class at Rampart." He gestured with his hand, and continued to talk with it as he explained. "The program is designed to take rescue firefighters and train them in medicine, beyond first aid. How to treat sprains and broken bones, notice the signs, take vitals, and even administer IVs and drugs, under guidance, of course." Brackett shook his head. "I'm indifferent on the program."

Henry tilted his head to the side like a curious dog. "Oh? Why is that?"

Brackett subconsciously scratched at the back of his head. "I'm not a big fan of training hose jockeys in medicine. I feel like they have too much on their plate already...and giving them a rushed lesson in medicine is also worrying, as I feel they might forget something." He waved his hand. "Not that I'm brushing off the ability of firefighters, by any means, but it takes years to learn medicine and become a doctor, as I'm sure you're well aware."

Henry nodded, agreeing with him. "I'd love to be able to see them in action."

"Well, it's set up right now where they pick up a nurse from the Hospital and drive to the scene with them, so they can administer medicine." Brackett looked past Henry, perhaps as a distant gaze. "Though that's bound to present complications eventually." A pause, then Brackett had an idea. "Why don't you come over to my ER the day after today? I'll be flying up to present my case on the program, but more likely than not a squad will be there."

"Squad?" Henry questioned. He was becoming more engrossed as time passed in the conversation.

"Yeah, the Los Angeles County Fire Department took rescue squads and outfitted them with the tools that the paramedics are to use on the field.

Henry paused to think, and then nodded, matching that with a smile. "I'd be happy to."

* * *

 **Rampart General Hospital, Carson, CA**

Henry entered the doors of the ER at Rampart Hospital. The doors were automatic, much to his surprise, and as he stepped in, he noticed that the layout was a bit similar to his hospital. The waiting room was to his right, and all the Exam rooms were to his left. Walking forward, he was stopped by a doctor. The man wore the traditional white jacket, with a silver watch to complement it. His hair was grey, and he had an overall kind demeanor.

"Can I help you with anything?" He asked, with a soft voice.

Henry nodded. "Doctor Brackett invited me here to observe more about the paramedics."

The doctor breathed out in realization. "Yes, he told me you were coming." He held out his hand. "I'm Doctor Joe Early, I work with Doctor Brackett in the ER."

Henry took his hand. "I'm Doctor Henry Morgan, out of New York City." They both gave a firm handshake.

Early nodded at that. "I have a friend in New York City. Beautiful place."

Before Henry could comment, two people walked in the ER door, causing both of them to turn around and look at the two men. Both were dressed in light blue short shirts, coupled with a black jacket and pants. Both had pouches on their hips containing tools. They both met Henry's gaze.

"Just on time." Doctor Early walked up to the two, just as the older man sent the younger one down the hall. "Dwyer, I want you to meet Doctor Morgan." He gestured to Henry. "He's from New York City and is curious about the paramedic program."

The older, taller paramedic gave a kind nod. "Nice to meet you, I'm Dwyer." He gestured to his partner, who was now back at his side, carrying a box of mixed drugs and IVs. "This is my partner, Steven."

Steven adjusted his hold on the box, which seemed heavy for his tall, thin frame. "I can introduce myself, Dwyer." He rolled his eyes.

Doctor Early placed his hands in his pockets. "I was thinking you two could show him the squad." He gestured to the vehicle parked outside.

Henry held up his hands."I understand how busy you are, so if it's too much trouble, I'd love to see it." Though, in the back of his head, he was hoping to catch a glimpse of it.

Dwyer shook his head, waving that off. "Not at all, doc. We can just be made available the whole time, so if something happens we will have to scamper off." He turned to his partner. "Steven, why don't you go sort that stuff into the drug box, and I'll give him a tour of the squad?"

Steven responded with a simple grunt, just happy to set the box down. The threesome then made their way out the automatic doors, into the back end of the ER.

There, right in front of Henry, was the squad in all her glory. The truck looked just like the smaller vehicle he had seen pass him the night of the fire. A modified truck, with a back-end outfitted with five compartments, three on the left side and two on the right. The compartments parted at the back, where things such as oxygen tanks and fire extinguishers were stored, being held down by clips. The overall look of the truck was definitely small when being compared to a larger engine, but the shiny red paint used on her body, coupled with the sirens and the number of the station predominantly featured on either side of the door, she was able to stand her own ground.

Dwyer noticed Henry taking in the overall look of the squad. "Hah, I can see you're mesmerized by her." He lightly joked. He began to walk forward, waving a hand for Henry to follow him. They went over to the right side, to the larger compartment of the squad.

"Now, on either side we got the turnouts and things for going into burning buildings." Dwyer launched into explanation. "Since we technically _are_ still rescue men." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a key. He met the lock with the key on the double doors, turning and hearing a click. He gripped the handle, pulling the right door first and then the left.

And there, presented to all, was the live-saving equipment in all its glory.

"Impressive." Henry couldn't help himself.

Dwyer agreed by nodding. "Yeah, it sure it." He launched into describing the equipment by first pointing to the smaller box with the screen. "Datascope cardiograph unit, for monitoring the heart."

"They make them that small?" Henry asked. The ones he had seen and used were far larger.

"Yep." Dwyer looked over at Henry. "It's amazing how far technology has come." He paused. "Furthermore, we can get a full 12 lead EKG on it. We can also send them to the Hospital using that." He pointed to the orange box. "That's the biophone. Not only can we send a strip over that, but we can also communicate with the Hospital directly through it." Dwyer shrugged. "In many ways, it's a paramedic's lifeline."

From the passenger seat of the squad, Henry heard Steven stifle a chuckle.

Dwyer pointed to a larger machine on the bottom rack. "That's our trusty defibrillator. Like all others in the Hospital, we get up to 400 watts per second on it, which, as you know doc, is the standard."

Henry just nodded, eager to continue.

Reaching forward, Dwyer pulled out what appeared to be a black fish tackle box from the top right corner. He set it on the lip of the shelf, and balanced it as he flipped open the front tab and opened it just enough to display its contents.

"This is our bread and butter, the drug box." Dwyer hovered his hand over the shelves in it. "Painkillers, IV solutions, drugs for controlling the heart, and so on. All in all, it's everything we could want."

Henry hummed in thought. "Carrying these would make it a prime target for drug addicts, no?" He questioned.

Again from the passenger seat, Steven spoke up, causing the two to look in his direction. "Nah, doc. We may carry drugs, but the amount is so tiny it's not worth anybody's time." He leaned back in the chair, placing his arms behind his head in a resting position.

Dwyer nodded. "Yes, what Steven said." Finally, he pointed to a large, wooden box on the top left shelf. "Finally, the OB kit, for bringing new life into the world." He lowered his hands, both of them finding their place on his hips. "And that's the basic rundown, doc."

"It's everything we have access to at the Hospital." Henry mused. He took another second to look at the setup before Dwyer reached forward, closing the compartment doors and relocking them.

Henry looked behind them, where another, seemingly similar squad was parked.

"And all paramedic squads are outfitted the same?" He inquired.

Dwyer looked over at the squad next to them. "Hah, that's Squad 51." He nodded. "But yes, doc, all squads are the same, minus the people that ride in them."

Steven commented again. "Yeah, because the guys of Squad 51 fit _so_ well together." He sarcastically threw out, laughing to himself.

Dwyer walked over to the passenger door, staring at his partner. "I'll have you know that DeSoto and I are good friends."

Steven rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because no one wants to be friends with Gage."

Dwyer shook his head. "Gage and DeSoto are pretty close, 'ya know. Even during their training." He looked over at Henry, who was looking just a little bit left out to him. "Oh, sorry doc." He walked back over to him. "Anyways-"

Suddenly, from inside the squad, the radio buzzed to life with two beeps, and the LA County dispatcher spoke over it.

" _Squad 128, what is your status?"_

Steven reached forward, gripping the comm, pulling it to his mouth. He depressed the talk button on the side.

"Squad 128, we're available." He answered in a basic tone. He let go of the talk button.

" _10-4 Squad 128, standby for response."_

One two-dial tone echoed, and then another, and subsequent ones followed. The three were left in silence for what felt like an eternity while a list of stations a mile long was toned off and then read out.

" _Engine 10, Truck 10, Engine 210, Engine 53, Engine 101, Squad 10, Squad 128, Battalion 14, respond to a tunnel explosion, with cave-in, at the flood control tunnel, Alameda Diversion Complex, the Alameda Diversion Complex, Route 34, Charlie 1. Time out: 18:10."_

Steven quickly depressed the talk button. "Squad 128, 10-4." He replaced the comm back on its holster. Dwyer was about to make his way around the other side, before turning to Henry.

"Doc, you 'wanna ride along?" He questioned. Before Henry could question if he was allowed to, Dwyer elaborated. "'Ya see, we can't practice medicine without authorization, something we don't have right now. We need a doctor or nurse on the field."

Steven looked out the window of the passenger door. "Come on Dwyer!" He yelled, getting a bit angry now.

Henry was about to turn down the offer, knowing that either they wouldn't let him into the tunnel or he wouldn't be allowed to help at all, but then he his mind went back to that scene of the fire he had experienced. He remembered seeing the wife crying as she watched her husband slip further into the grave...perhaps this...this is how we would make up for his failure that night.

With a simple nod, he responded. "I'll come."

Dwyer shook his head. "If they won't let you do anything, I'll force them to." And that was all that needed to be said.

The squad was definitely not made for comfort, but everyone was able to fit in it. Dwyer turned the key in the ignition as the truck roared to life. He flicked on the lights, aiming to flick on the sirens when they hit the main road. As they made their way out of the Hospital and onto the main road, the radio chirped back to life.

" _Squad 51, Engine 51, with Engine 10, on a tunnel explosion cave-in..."_

"Good, they'll be right behind us." Steven commented. He cast his gaze up to the sky. "Damn, looks like it's gonna rain."

Dwyer gripped the wheel harder. "That means flooding, and possibly more collapses..." He silently cursed to himself. That made their job harder.

By Steven's prediction, Squad 51 did end up following them to the scene, which made it easier to get there since more sirens from trucks on the road meant more people getting out of the way. Once they both arrived on scene, it was a complete mess. The rain had begun as a light drizzle but turned into a heavy downpour coupled with lightning.

The accident site was a large area of dirt, with the tunnel opening off to the side in a hill. Trucks were lined on one side, with the squads sitting next to them. Ambulances were beginning to arrive, and soon enough doctors would most likely be setting up a triage area. Both firefighters, police, medics and the like were already being directed and stationed.

By the time the two squads arrived and parked, one of the Battalion Chiefs had already made their way over to direct the new arrivals, talking and directing the men of Squad 51.

The three piled out of the squad, but not before Dwyer reached into his compartment on the side, pulling out a spare turnout jacket. He handed it to Henry.

"If they send you into the tunnel, you're 'gonna need this." Dwyer insisted. "It's a bit heavy, but it should protect you in case of fire or falling debris."

As Henry was about to take the turnout jacket, Dwyer felt a hand on shoulder. Turning around, he came face to face with Chief Rolin, the man in charge of the entire situation. He stood over his men, adjusting his all white fire helmet on his head. His posture indicated he wasn't happy.

"Dwyer, you've got ten seconds to explain who that is and why the hell he's at my scene." He spoke, in such a strict voice it made Steven cringe. A flash of lightning and thunder echoed overhead.

Dwyer took a step back, away from his superior, "Chief Rolin, this is Doctor Morgan, he's out of New York City. He came to study the paramedic program and ended up getting roped in with us as we came on scene." He was telling a half truth, although he knew Rolin could see through lies very easily.

Rolin shifted his gaze from Dwyer over to Henry. "He knows he can't practice medicine out of his county, right?" He crossed his arms.

Before Dwyer could comment on that, Henry took a step forward, placing a hand on his chest. "With all due respect," He began, choosing his words carefully, "Paramedics, as I understand it, cannot practice medicine without the supervision of a doctor or nurse. It was suggested that I come along in case something serious _does_ happen, and, looking at the scene unfolding before me, something serious has already occurred."

Rolin stared him down, and Henry met him with an equal gaze. The hardened Chief studied that gaze. He had seen it many times when he was a Field Medic in the Vietnam War. You were taught not to talk back to your superiors, less you die on the field from not heeding them, but some of the men, when on the lines, would give a look. That focused, determined gaze mixed with anger. That gaze represented that they _knew_ they would disobey orders, but they were doing what was right. With that gaze, not even a fleet of trucks could move them.

Rolin relented, taking a step back, albeit very reluctantly. "Fine." He growled, "But I want him watched." He pointed to the tunnel. "I want you, Steven and the doc in that tunnel at triage; they're at the front. If _anything_ comes up, I want to know about it. We've got over a hundred men in there." He stared his men-plus one-down. They were all beginning to get soaked. "Got it!?"

"Yes sir!" Both Steven and Dwyer yelled out in succession, and with that, they all went to work. They walked towards the tunnel, following the line of other people, and all around them, bystanders stood, some alone and others with family members. Who knew how many of them wouldn't see their loved ones tonight?

Once inside thetunnel, the chaos only grew, with people, both firefighters and tunnel workers, scattered about every which way. The triage area was set up already, and medics were already crouched near other people.

Dwyer shifted the box in his hand. "Alright guys, let's find an area." He commented. No sooner than Dwyer spoke that did a tunnel worker limp up to them. He had mud covering every part of his exposed skin, and he was clearly in pain.

"Hey I just escaped..." He tried to reach for them, but ended up stumbling on his hurt leg, stumbling backwards and falling to the muddy ground. The three immediately crouched down to him, dropping their stuff next to the area.

Dwyer raised his arm, gesturing with a flat palm to Steven. "Steven, grab me a sheet from the box. I'm also 'gonna need some bandages." He ordered, and Steven promptly started grabbing what they needed.

Dwyer looked over at Henry. "Doc, what'dya think?" He asked. "He's got a pretty nasty gash on his leg, but nothing looks fractured or broken."

Henry looked the victim over. "No, if it were fractured or broken, he wouldn't be able to put any pressure on it." Grabbing the man's leg, he gently lifted it up. The worker groaned in pain. "It's a deep wound, but not deep enough that it will require stitches." He gently set the leg back down, now on the bundle of yellow blanket that Steven had laid out for him. He gestured to the two paramedics. "Start him on an IV. I would recommend D5W. We shouldn't administer any painkillers at this time, unless further complications arise. Thinning his blood right now is the last thing we want to do."

Dwyer looked over to Steven. "You heard him, grab me an IV, D5W." Steven nodded, unclipping the drug box, folding it out. He reached for the familiar IV, handing it off to Dwyer. He went about establishing it while Steven took charge of the leg wound, carefully wrapping it up.

As they were finishing with the tunnel worker, who was settling in much easier now, Chief Rolin made his way into the cave. Dwyer saw him walk past the three, towards two other paramedics at the back. Looking closer, he gradually identified it was 51s paramedics. After a short talk, the two picked up their equipment, and started heading further into the tunnel. Dwyer watched them go, sending silent prayers their way.

He turned back to the two. "Sounds like they broke though on the other side of the wall." Dwyer reported. "They're bound to have survivors."

"And they're not sending us up?" Steven commented, looking his partner in the eyes.

Dwyer shook his head. "Our direct orders were to stay here. If he wants to pick others over us, that's fine by me." He leaned over their leg wound victim. "Hey, you 'doin better?" He asked the tunnel worker, who was now more alert.

He shook head, wincing at the moment. "Y...yeah. Thanks, man." He managed to groan out. He laid his head back down on the yellow blanket, trying to calm himself.

Dwyer sighed, draping his right arm over his knee. "Steven," He began, looking over to his coworker, "I want you to stay with this man. The doc and I are 'gonna go move on to other people. If anything happens, tell me immediately, alright?"

Steven nodded, and with that, he took the place of Dwyer. He stood up, with Henry standing up as well. The two stood side-by-side, looking over the rest of the scene.

Dwyer shook his head. "I've been a rescue man for two years, and I've never seen a horrid scene like this before." His gaze dropped to the muddy ground. "There's bound to be countless deaths with this..." He looked over to his left at Henry, perhaps for reassurance.

Henry placed a hand on Dwyer's shoulder, now caked with mud. "The only thing we can do is keep those who have a chance alive. Worry about the ones who didn't make it later." He spoke a reassurance.

That sunk in with Dwyer, who blinked, taking another look around the area. He didn't smile, but simply mumbled, "Yeah, that's true..."

They both looked further into the tunnel, where more units had went. As they were about to get to work, all of a sudden, all power was cut to the tunnel. The lights subsequently went out, and with no emergency lights, they were left in pitch black darkness.

Gradually, the lights of flashlights came on, and soon enough, Dwyer's, which had been attached to his belt, came on.

"Damn, that was bound to happen..." He commented, sounding annoyed. He shined his flashlight around, finally settling on where Steven was treating the man. He was sitting back, balancing himself on the muddy ground with both arms behind his back. He was clearly shaken up. The two jogged over to him, Dwyer coming to crouch beside him.

"Everything okay?" He asked, concerned for both his partner and the victim. He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Steven nodded. "Yeah, yeah..." He couldn't hide the shaking in his voice. "The lights going out just caught me by surprise." He shook his head like a wet dog. "The victim's doing fine. He's resting easy now." Steven brushed the hand off his shoulder.

Dwyer sighed. Suddenly, he let out a groan, leaning back to support himself in the same way Steven was. Steven looked over at him, shocked, until Dwyer spoke up. "I can't wait for this night to be over." He shook his head, and, in surprise, the three looked up at the tunnel lights came back to life.

Steven couldn't help but laugh, and Henry couldn't help but agree with him.

* * *

With a loud yawn behind him, Henry turned around to see Dwyer walking towards with, with the equally half-asleep Steven on his heels. Henry was in the midst of checking his pocket watch.

"Dwyer let out a short laugh. "I like your watch, doc." He smiled. Henry smiled back, placing his watch back into his jacket pocket.

"Something my father gave me." He kept his hand in his pocket, playing with the chain of his watch.

Dwyer nodded. "It's a nice gift." He paused, and then looked down, letting out a breath. "Doc...I wanna thank you, for everything you've done tonight." With a little more confidence, he looked up, meet Henry in the eyes. His gaze was soft and kind. "I was really nervous coming into the program, but I'm just happy that everything turned out well, so..." He extended a hand. "Thanks for everything."

Henry was going to take his hand, but stopped short, as he noticed his turnout glove was caked with mud, so much so that it was still partially wet. Still, he shook his head, and took the gloved hand anyways. It meant a lot to them.

Henry shook his head. "It was nice to meet you two."

With that said, and a curt nod from the two partners, they shifted their equipment in their hands, and trekked through the mud and out of the tunnel. As Henry followed them out of the tunnel, he noticed, off to the side, a lone paramedic stood, holding the drug box and IV box in his hands. He was staring at something that was out of view for Henry.

He walked further, nearing the paramedic, and ended up next to him. The paramedic didn't notice him. He held a sad gaze, his posture clearly presenting exhaustion. Henry looked past him, and noticed that he was staring at two people, a mother, presumably, and a son, who was laid out on a stretcher, with a sheet over him.

Henry dropped his expression. Breaking the silence, he looked over at the young man. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, the young man looked over to him in shock. Looking him up and down, and seeing the clothes he wore, he quickly deduced that he must be a doctor, for no one of the public were allowed in.

"Oh..." He sighed, "Hi, doc." A quick sentence that meant a lot.

Henry nodded towards the mother and her son, who was now crying. "Did you treat that patient?" He gently asked.

The paramedic shook his head. "No. It's just..." He let out a breath, seemingly exasperated. "It shouldn't have happened. No one should've died."

Henry thought out his words carefully. It was ironic, in a way. Just a week ago, Henry was thinking the same thing. Because he couldn't save one person, He had no power. He wasn't strong enough or quick enough, but, seeing the brave men work first person shed new light on that.

Henry cast his gaze back up, a faint smile on his face. "You know, I think I've learned something from observing paramedics."

The young man looked over at him. "And what would that be?" He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"It's that the ones you save outweigh the ones that die." Henry gestured to the young paramedic. "You saved lives tonight, yes?"

"Well..." He thought for a second, back to his victim...the one who had a heart attack. With his own power, he had revived him. A faint, crooked smile came across his face. "Yeah, I did."

Henry nodded. "I'm a doctor, and you're a paramedic. I feel that, to us, you're our observers, the saviors of life."

Now the crooked smile on the young man's face was wide. "Nah doc." He brushed that off. "I think we're more...on-the-run saviors of life." He laughed, and Henry smiled along with it.

The young man looked out of the tunnel. "Well...I better get going." He nodded to Henry. "Thanks doc." He began to walk forward, but stopped in his tracks, He turned around on his heels. "Oh, doc! If you're ever around the area of Carson, come see us at Station 51! Ask for John Gage!"

Henry put his hands into his pockets, seemingly satisfied. "I promise I will!" He yelled out. And with that, the paramedic named John Gage turned around, walking out, with a new confidence in his step.


End file.
